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MACKAY

America. Where the women were well endowed and the dragons scarce. MacKay could hardly believe his luck in drawing this assignment. He'd been sure that Blaise had called him to the Red Dragon Wyr's stronghold for some kind of ass chewing. There had been that incident in Glasgow with the barmaids a few weeks back.

Turns out Match, his Wyvern, had heard he had a good nose for hunting out small hordes of demon dragon wyrms and tapped him for this mission specifically. That was a big deal for a dragon not yet in his Prime. This was probably a test. One that he was going to fucking rock.

Someone or something was starting fires in some place called Colorado. There were no other dragons in the middle of the US, and the few Reds who lived on the West Coast were all busy. Lucky for him. It wouldn't be hard to find the little bastards and destroy them. It was strange they were so far from anywhere else he and the other Dragon Warriors had fought against the forces of hell.

Why Colorado?

The Red Wyvern wanted to know that too.

It took longer than he wanted to cross the ocean. Plus, America was fucking huge. He could have crossed all of Europe and been halfway back in the amount of time it took to get from one coast to the mountains. But what glorious mountains they were. Tall peaks, jagged edges, and snow.

He knew as a fire-breathing dragon he shouldn't find snow fun and fascinating. He did, nonetheless. He'd spent an hour sliding down a peak and into a snow-filled basin on his back and planned to come back before he had to head home to rainy Scotland.

But he wasn't going to find demon dragons up on the top of white-capped peaks. No, those bastards were making trouble in a town at the edge of the mountains where they met the plains called Denver. MacKay took one more quick slide down the side of the mountain and off the side of the cliff. That launched him into the air, and he flew toward the sunny plains of Colorado.

He shifted into his human form in the woods out of sight of the populated area. Up very high in the sky, he’d spotted a large highway that led down the mountain. He was under orders not to draw attention to himself, so he was going to have to procure some kind of a vehicle to navigate the area.

That was fine, he had plenty in his hoard and had liquidated some of it to use while he was here. He also intended on finding some of the famed Colorado gold to replenish. There were abandoned mines all over these mountains, and he’d have a good ole time hunting around for some missed riches.

After he hunted down the demon wyrms.

It didn’t take long to find a ride. The town he’d come in near, called Silverthorne, had a motorcycle dealership. He found a used bike he liked, grabbed a helmet, and was speeding off down Highway 70 in no time.

The last known fire that couldn’t be explained, which screamed demon activity, was in a suburb called Thornminster. A warehouse had burned. No one was injured, but the fire department’s investigators hadn’t yet made a statement about what had caused the fire.

MacKay waited until nightfall to drive over to the site. It took him all of twenty-seven seconds to determine the cause. The stench of demon wyrms was all over the place.

He parked and crept closer to the burned remains. There were even a few blackened splotches of goo where two or three of the dumbasses had died. It looked like a beam had collapsed on them. Weird. Why were they still here after they’d wreaked their havoc? What were they waiting for?

Poking around wasn’t doing him much good. There wasn’t a whole lot left for him to examine. He was about to leave when he caught a whiff of the beasts. Fuck. They were back. He rubbed his hands together and let his dragon side rise up to see if he couldn’t spot the little buggers in the dark. “Come out and show yourselves, you wee little bastards.”

One of them darted between two nearby buildings. Mackay crouched down beside his bike and waited to see if another would show itself, because where there was one wyrm, there were more. They were like rats or cockroaches that way.

Yep. There went two more, then a whole horde of them. Shit. There were more than a dozen. He’d trained for this moment half his life and knew the element of surprise was going to be his advantage.

With a quick shimmer of magic, he shifted into his dragon form and quietly jumped up to the top of the building. The wyrms wiggled their way through doors and windows using the shadow to slip through places that they shouldn’t be able to.

MacKay didn't have that same ability. He'd have to find another way into the building. Smashing down the front door was one possibility. He wasn't supposed to destroy property if he could help it though. The humans weren't to know anything about the war between Dragon Warriors and hell.

He crept across the rooftop to a maintenance door. A quick and quiet turn of the knob between his claws and he knew it was locked. One tiny doorknob didn't count as property destruction, did it? He blew a tight stream of fire and melted the handle, the lock, and a little bit of the frame. Totally fixable with a quick trip to a hardware store.

He'd slip in, but there was no way his big dragon butt was fitting through that minuscule human-sized doorway. Dumb. He should have shifted before and picked the lock. Although melting it was infinitely more fun.

Down a couple of flights of stairs later and he found that the main part of the building warehoused pallets of what looked like bound up cardboard for recycling. It was kindling waiting for a match. Shit. He had to get these demon wyrms either out of here, back to hell where they belonged, or dead.

And he was going to have to do it without using his dragon fire. Eyeroll.

Well, he hadn't trained for years on end as an elite warrior for nothing. MacKay found a section of the balcony that overlooked the warehouse floor wide enough for him to shift and not knock a hole in the wall. He still had the element of surprise, but once he shifted, those wyrms would notice.

Hmm. He climbed up on the railing, crawled over to the other side, and took a swan dive toward the cement floor. In three... two... one. He shifted in midair, unfurled his wings and his talons, and chopped off the heads of four unsuspecting wyrms in one swoop.

The demon wyrms screeched and scattered.

Good try, little bastards. He was coming for them now. Not a one of them was getting out of this warehouse alive if he could help it. MacKay turned and rolled, then came back around for a second pass. He took another few demons out, but this time they saw him coming and fired back. Literally.

The wyrms didn't have fire like a true dragon. Their flames were more like spitting lava. But it could sure start a fire. The palettes of cardboard nearest to him lit up like the driest of kindling soaked in lighter fluid. The first stack went up in smoke instantly, and the flames jumped to the next stack and the next.